


Dearly Missed

by Deannie



Series: Ancient Truths [2]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1996-09-15
Updated: 1996-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-02 00:00:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1050140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scully battles her guilt from the past and dangers of the present to find out the truth behind what happened to Mulder in Blessing Way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dearly Missed

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during Blessing Way

> _Dana Scully ran quickly through the woods, glancing back at every turn to make sure that her father was still following her. Her twelve-year-old lungs wheezed in protest, trying to tell her that she had run too hard today, too long..._
> 
> _But she couldn't listen to them. She had to get back to him, make sure he was all right. She heard her father breathing heavily behind her, felt a horrible dread building in her, and pressed on..._

She felt that same dread, now, as she drove toward Albert Hosteen's house, cutting a half-hour drive down to fifteen minutes. As she drove up, launching herself out of the car and shooting up the porch steps, she feared that, this time, she'd be far too late. With a trembling hand, she pushed the half-open door to the edge of its hinges, and plunged into the relative darkness of the little house.

A man sat before her, sunk into his chair, as a younger man tended to a vicious wound on his cheek. Albert Hosteen looked up from his son's ministrations as Scully entered.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly, barely noticing the material havoc that had been wrought--focusing only on the damage done to the living.

"There were men," Albert's son said quietly.

"They were looking for your partner," Albert finished sadly.

"Where is he?"

Even as Albert shook his head in despair, Scully caught sight of a figure entering the kitchen. She winced at the blood and bruises on Eric's face.

"He was in the quarry," Eric mumbled, his words fighting past his swollen lip. "They came in a helicopter."

"Where?"

Eric moved slowly toward the door. "I'll take you."

"No!" she answered sharply, grasping the boy's shoulder gently. "Just tell me how to get there."

That run, twenty years ago, had been the longest of her life--until now. The car was useless after a certain point, threatening to slide off of trails meant only for motorbikes. The last mile, with a column of smoke to guide her, made her understand what Hell must be like.

As she slithered down the last bit of the quarry wall, Scully's breath caught in her throat. Like a zombie, she walked toward the sheen of silver that smoked beneath the red sands before her.

A hatch was open, heat coming off of it in waves, and she looked down in horror, as snatches of a long-ago conversation ran through her mind:

"I hate fire... I'm scared to death of it..."

"A man has to face his demons..."

Her mind shut down for a moment, as she thought of the demon he might have faced here in the desert.

But Albert had said that they were "looking" for him! Maybe, somehow....

"MULDER!" She listened painfully for a moment, as her empty cry bounced off of the rocks around her... as the first tears slid painfully down her cheeks...

But someone heard...

The voice was distorted--by the rocks above him, the fire raging behind, the pain in his head... But Fox Mulder heard.

He tried to draw breath, tried to cry out to her, tried to inch farther toward the crack of light he saw before him, reaching out until his hand broke through into the baking sun... It was too hard, finally, and Fox Mulder knew that he would die here, mere yards from his partner...

In this macabre, communal casket...

> _"Maggie!"_
> 
> Dana Scully wheezed painfully, taking comfort from her father's hand on her shoulder, as her mother ran out from the back door.
> 
> "Maggie, call Doctor Hillshan. Charley's hurt."
> 
> When her father's eyes had turned back to her, Dana's fear increased a hundredfold, as she saw in them a fear she had never thought to see from her courageous Ahab. "Come on, Dana," he said quietly, pulling her gently to her feet. "You've got to show me where you left him."

Where she'd left him? Where had she left Mulder, she asked herself. In Hell. In more danger than he had ever faced before. In a danger she had been well aware of...

She sighed, watching another town pass by in the early morning. Illinois. She'd be back in D.C. by this afternoon...

But what would she do then?

As her cellphone rang, she held in her fear. "Scully."

She fought not to let herself hope that it would be him--not to think about what she would say: "Where are you? What happened? Are you okay?" Fought not to hear his dream response: "I'm okay."

It was a losing battle.

"Agent Scully?"

She held in her disappointed sob, as Skinner's voice came to her over a hazy line. "Yes, sir."

"I've been told by the agents in New Mexico that you left the crime scene without permission yesterday?"

Scully listened to the silence that followed.

"Can I ask where you are?" Skinner said after a moment, irritation evident in his tone.

"I'm on my way back to D.C.," she replied dully. "I'll be there this afternoon."

"I want you in my office by four, Agent Scully."

She didn't even bother to respond as she pressed the disconnect button, all but throwing the phone onto the seat next to her.

Scully's anger had long since taken over from her grief. As she sat quietly in Skinner's office, heard some pig-headed bureaucrat before her rattle off his inanities, she realized that she had already known this would happen--long before she'd even reached New Mexico.

But now, she didn't care...

"This summary action is justified under the OPC articles of review..."

Scully tuned the man out again, noticing Skinner squirming in his seat. She sent a cold glare his way, perversely satisfied when his eyes dropped quickly away from her.

"We will have to ask that you check your weapon and your badge--before you leave the building, Agent Scully."

She stood finally, as the curly-headed man before her ceased his catalog of her crimes. Reaching into her belt holster, she withdrew her sidearm, laying it on the desk beside her badge.

"We would also ask that you make yourself available to answer further questions in our investigation into Agent Mulder's whereabouts."

Scully stared at her erstwhile superior, as he rattled off the pat request. How the hell could he be so heartless about this? "I told you everything I know," she said coldly. "To the best of my knowledge, Agent Mulder is dead."

She turned from him quickly, not bothering to find out whether he truly showed any remorse for what had happened. His low voice froze her in place.

"Don't think this hasn't been difficult for everyone."

She bit her tongue, satisfying herself with a venomous glare in his direction. How could he be so fucking callous! Without another word, she strode out of the room.

He caught her on her way out. "Agent Scully--"

"Who are these people?" she demanded angrily, whirling on him.

Skinner took her shoulder, leading her farther from his slightly-opened door. "'These people' are doing their job."

"What they're doing," she gritted painfully. "Is putting an official stamp on a lie."

She almost laughed her contempt as Skinner's eyes hardened. "These people have a protocol to follow--which is something you and Agent Mulder did not consider."

"What about the people who were poisoning Agent Mulder's water?" She watched coldly as Skinner's eyes fell. "Whose protocol was that?"

"The investigation into--"

"The 'investigation' will be an exercise!" she railed, cutting off his inadequate excuse. "The men who killed Agent Mulder are the men who killed his father--they aren't meant to be found!"

"We will find them."

Scully bit back her initial response--You couldn't catch a fly if they didn't want you to!--and instead gritted, "With all due respect, sir, I think you overestimate your position in the chain of command!"

She'd nearly stopped her hands from shaking by the time she'd reached Mulder's office. Looking both ways, Scully slid the door shut, locking it, and made her way to his desk.

She knew exactly where he would have put it... Under the desk, taped to the top of the drawer...

She looked down in shock as she held the empty cassette container.

The tape was gone...

Scully couldn't even begin to guess at who had taken it. There were so many players in this game now... So many people that she couldn't trust...

And no one left that she could.

In a daze, she boarded a bus in the evening twilight, knowing where it led, but not really caring. She forced her mind to remain a blank until she'd been left off in a quiet little neighborhood, ignoring the driver's polite farewell, ignoring the blare of a horn as a car came within feet of hitting her...

Ignoring everything.

Three blocks on, her mind cut in on her, and she started running, tears streaming down her face as she remembered...

> She and Ahab found her younger cousin just the way she had left him, one leg twisted horribly beneath him, one arm at a dangerous angle... His face covered with blood from a gash in his cheek.
> 
> The walk back to the house seemed to take forever, and Dana's feet were throbbing by the time their back porch came into sight. Dr. Hillshan stood at the door, Dana's mother standing on the lawn below, looking for some sign of her family, her voice breaking open in a sob as she saw her baby boy in his father's arms...
> 
> Dana had waited in the living room, afraid to go upstairs, afraid to find out how badly her cousin was hurt. It was two hours before Ahab and Dr. Hillshan walked quietly down the stairs, and she could feel Ahab's eyes on her as he bid the doctor farewell.
> 
> "Dana?" He sat on the edge of the table before her, looking down at her red-rimmed eyes. "What happened, Starbuck? You were supposed to be looking after him."
> 
> "He didn't want to play with me," she protested tearfully. "He wanted to go off and climb the rocks." Her tears became sobs as she remembered his call to her. "He... must'a slipped..."
> 
> Ahab took her trembling hands in his, squeezing gently, giving her a comfort she didn't deserve. The reprimand she did wasn't far behind. "You know you were supposed to keep an eye on him, Dana," her father said quietly. "He was your responsibility, and you shouldn't have let him go off alone."
> 
> "But, I wanted to--"
> 
> "Starbuck!" he barked, squeezing her hands fiercely now. "You should have stayed with him--no matter what."

Scully stopped running, stumbling along exhaustedly. Her feet hurt--just like they had that day in the woods. With shaking hands, she stripped off her pumps, carrying them uneasily by her side, heedless of the gravel that slowly destroyed her hose.

She should have stayed with Mulder--should have been ready for the danger that she knew was there. But she had been worried about losing her job, her reputation...

And now, she had lost him.

With dull eyes, she looked up at the house that her body had stopped in front of, nearly in tears as she recognized the familiar outlines.

Her knock on the door was tired and small, but her mother answered instantly.

"Dana?" Her mother's voice was so welcome--but still not the voice she wanted to hear.

"Hi, Mom." Part of Scully's mind wondered what she must sound like. Like a little girl who'd shot a snake... Like a little boy who'd lost his sister...

Her mother's voice was puzzled, and Scully suddenly realized that the older woman had no idea what had happened in the last week. She had no idea that Mulder was gone. "What did you do with your shoes?"

Scully felt suddenly foolish. "Um... They started to give me blisters, so..."

"You walked here at this time of night?"

The care and worry in her mother's voice were suddenly more than she could take, and the tears that she'd thought were spent welled up again in her eyes. "Oh, Mom!" she cried weakly, stepping into the older woman's welcoming embrace.

"What is it, Dana?"

"I've made a terrible mistake." She sucked in a shaky breath, feeling the comfort of her mother's shoulder beneath her cheek. "Dad would be so ashamed of me..."

Her mother had protested when Scully asked her to take her back to her own apartment. As much as Dana wanted to stay at her mother's house, she knew she had to be alone tonight.

She chastised herself again for her selfishness. If she hadn't been so worried about her own reputation, he would be here right now, closer to the truth, closer to the answers he'd sought so desperately for so many years.

But maybe he had those answers... Did the dead find their answers in Heaven? She lifted her eyes to the ceiling. Did you, Ahab?

With a painful sigh, she turned toward the window, trying to sleep, praying for a pitying lack of dreams...

She was almost relieved when the doorbell rang...

Until she saw who it was.

"Frohike?" she asked incredulously.

"I know it's late," the little man slurred drunkenly. "But I heard the news..." He stood before her, silent for a moment, and suddenly seemed to think better of his visit. "Maybe I should go. Pardon my presumptuousness."

But Scully shook her head. He was a friend--albeit an occasionally bothersome one. And he had been Mulder's friend. And he was hurting--just like her.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked, a hint of sad laughter in her voice.

Frohike held up an empty bottle of scotch, looking at her questioningly. "Do you recycle?"

* * *

Dana Scully sat upright in bed, shaking off the fear of her dream. It wasn't a nightmare, not the kind of thing she'd come to expect these days, but the images were so painful, so strange, that it took her a moment to realize that they had never really happened.

She took a deep breath, letting fragments of the dream roll around in her head...

Mulder had been there, surrounded by pinpoints of light, lost somewhere in the space that he had always seemed to think held answers for him. And Deep Throat was there as well... And Mulder's father...

Sometime during this strange fantasy, Scully had understood that this must be part of Heaven, some other part than she had visited before.

Deep Throat called Mulder his "old friend", his mellifluous voice rolling across the starfield as he spoke some great philosophy.

"I come to you, old friend, with the dull clarity of the dead. Not to beckon you, but to feel the fire, the intensity, that still lives in you...Go back..."

Come back, Scully thought desperately, knowing that this was a simple trick of her grief, not a reality... Come back...

Mulder's father had been quiet--remorse from the dead--but his words still made Scully cry as she heard them again in her mind. "You are the memory, Fox... It lives in you. If you were to die now, the truth dies..."

Scully sighed, dashing tears from her eyes as she rose. He was already dead. Dead, or gone... She shook her head, refusing to allow herself to continue the fantasy--Dead and gone!

As she started the shower, pulling herself under the torrent of water, Scully realized that this was the fifth day. Five days since Mulder left. She wondered sadly if this was the way he had measured his life. Five days since Samantha left... Five months... Five years... Ten... Twenty...

How high would she have to count before she found out the truth about his death? How many days, or weeks, or months, before she would stop teasing herself with the possibility that he was still alive?

It took her longer than it should have to get ready to see Skinner, but she felt somehow stronger as she walked through the main entrance of the Hoover building, certain that her superior would see the logic behind the find that Frohike had given her last night. Certain that he'd help her find the truth about Mulder and his father.

A deep, kind voice shook her from her thoughts. "Making you come in the front door these days, are they, Agent Scully?"

Scully grinned quietly up at the security guard. "For now."

Her smile changed to a frown as the metal detector went off.

"You carrying your weapon?" The guard asked, more puzzled than wary.

"No."

The guard pulled out his detector wand, gesturing to her embarrassedly. "Sorry to have to run you through this."

"That's okay," Scully reassured him instantly, frowning again as the wand detected nothing. "That was weird."

"Yeah," the guard replied, dropping the wand back on the desk behind him. "Well, I've had a straight pin left in a shirt collar set this thing off, but, uh..." He smiled shyly. "You can go on through."

"Thank you," she replied, a courteous smile of her own.

She thought about the metal detector all the way up to Skinner's office. That was strange. She wasn't even wearing her cross today--too mad at God for the past couple of weeks to show Him that sort of duty. What could possibly have set that off? A filling? It couldn't be that sensitive!

With a sigh, she shelved that particular worry, nodding calmly to Skinner's assistant as she entered his outer office.

He was at the door in a moment. "Scully, come in please."

She walked in quietly, noting, with a touch of disgust, that the office still smelled faintly of cigarettes. She snorted inwardly. There's a shadow around every corner here.

Skinner took a seat behind his desk, not bothering to offer her one--he knew she wouldn't take it. She had that "hunting" look in her eyes.

He was just sorry that he couldn't let her know where her quarry was.

"You said you needed to see me concerning the investigation?" he asked, sounding more professional than he probably needed to. Still, he had to keep up appearances for the shadow on the other side of the door.

"Yes, sir," she replied, just as formally. "I came across a news article. A man's body was found in New Jersey, and I have reason to believe that he was killed by the same men responsible for Agent Mulder."

And any number of other people, Skinner added silently. He shifted forward in his seat. "Can I see it?"

Scully handed over a crumpled and worn bit of New Jersey newsprint. Skinner barely read the information before him. Given his current position, any information she had was going to have to be disregarded. But he promised himself that as soon as his "visitor" in the other room left, he'd take care of this properly.

"The date of death postdates Agent Mulder's disappearance," Scully was explaining. "Now, you already have the ballistics data from Agent Mulder's father on file." She paused, apparently only just realizing how pedantic she sounded. Her tone dropped to a "professionally pleading" level. "I would like you to run it against the ballistics in this man's case."

"To try to prove what?" Skinner asked.

"Well, if both men were killed by the same weapon, we could prove that Agent Mulder didn't kill his father. And, it could also help us find the man who did."

Skinner really wanted to give her this satisfaction--wanted her to find the truth--but she'd been right yesterday... These people weren't meant to be found.

"You've been relieved of your investigative function," he pointed out, perhaps a little coldly.

"Yes, I know that, sir," she replied quietly. "I just thought this might be helpful."

It would be, if I was ever allowed to pursue it, Skinner thought, his anger building at his own helplessness. "I'm afraid not," he said briskly, watching the shock rise in his agent's eyes, and damning himself for it. "This case would have been handled by the Trenton P.D. They're on our drugfire-ballistics database. If there was a match on the two slugs, all the bell and whistles would have gone off by now."

"You don't want to check?" Scully asked in disbelief.

The betrayal in her eyes was murder on him. She'd come to him, trusting him to help her find the truth. And he was too weak to stand up to the men who held it. His self-disgust came out in his voice, as he threw her words from yesterday back at her. "Ms. Scully, I think you underestimate the duties and responsibilities of my position as Assistant Director."

Her chagrined gaze at his nameplate didn't hold for Skinner the satisfaction that Scully might have thought it did. It just served to prove to him how much he'd let her down.

"I was just trying to cooperate with your investigation," she said in a small voice.

Skinner's frustration suddenly had full control. "To mitigate your situation and enhance your chance of reinstatement, isn't that right?"

"NO!" she cried out, her own anger rising. "I just want answers."

Skinner played this next card very carefully. Half of the act was for Scully, half for the bastard outside. He hoped that each of them knew which side of the card they were supposed to look at.

"So do I. I want to know why I was asked to execute a search warrant on your apartment, to look for a digital cassette."

Scully shook her head, giving Skinner just the answer that the shadow needed to hear. "I don't have it."

"Is this tape what Agent Mulder died for?" He thought he already knew the answer, but he wanted to be absolutely sure before he threw his career away on it.

"I believe so," she replied, the tears in her voice pulling at Skinner's heart.

But now was not the time for truth--it was the time for poker, and Skinner's opponent was very shrewd. "You want to bring me a smoking gun, Scully?" he asked, in his best hard-assed tone. "You bring me that tape." He leaned back, not feeling a bit of the relaxation and satisfaction he conveyed. "Otherwise, I would ask you to go home, sit tight, and let us do our job."

He watched Scully digest that, watched her disappointment in him turn to the strong resolve that he'd always admired in her.

He hated every second of it.

"Is that all, sir?" she asked finally.

"Yes, that's all."

He watched as she walked out into the outer office, her head down. One would have thought she'd felt rebuked or disheartened by their meeting, but Skinner knew her better than most--she was as mad as he'd ever seen her.

His other door opened, and the bane of his existence loped in, already reaching for a cigarette. "Did you ask her about the tape?" the old man asked.

As if you didn't know! "She says she doesn't have it."

"Is that what she says?"

Skinner took a deep breath, and, for the third time in as many hours, reminded himself that killing this bastard would only make things worse. "Yes, that's what she says."

Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Skinner thought meanly. They couldn't get what they wanted from Scully. And maybe, just maybe, that would give him time to give her what she needed.

But the cold look in the smoking man's eyes suddenly made Skinner reconsider. If she didn't have it...

"Well, that's unfortunate for everyone," the old man said quietly.

...Did they still need her alive?

Scully stood before the elevator, waiting impatiently as it crept up toward her from the ground floor. Forget it, she told herself angrily. Take the stairs, work off that angry energy.

She knew now what Mulder had gone through when she was missing. In that case, Skinner had also been unwilling to help, telling Mulder to go home, to let others handle the case. All it seemed to have done in his case was give him more time to weave his wild theories about what might have been done to her. Aliens, and implants, and...

Her foot faltered on the next stair. Implants... What if it was something inside her that set off the metal detector? Not a necklace, or a straight pin... but her? Her mind was still spinning as she headed toward the door, pulling off her visitor's badge, and tossing it dully into the waiting basket. Some morbid curiosity, colored by the strange ideas rolling around in her head, caused Scully to head for the metal detector.

"Back again?" the young guard asked, a comfortable insubordination in his voice.

Scully barely noticed it. "I'm just curious about something," she said quietly. "Would you mind if I went through here again?"

He eyed her strangely. "Go ahead."

Scully surprised herself by jumping as the detector when off again.

"This thing's more sensitive than a toothache," the guard observed jokingly.

For Scully, it was anything but a joke. "Would you mind running the wand over me one more time?"

Again, his eyes seemed to ask what she was up to. He took out the wand. "Sure."

Running it over her again, he got the silence that he expected--until it passed over the back of her neck. The shrill beep of the wand caused Scully to turn back toward him, her hand to her chest in surprise.

"Are you wearing a necklace or something?"

"No," she replied, distracted. "Not today."

"Then what the hell is that?"

Scully stood there thinking for a moment, her fear building. Realizing that the young guard was watching her carefully, she cleared her throat and looked up at him. "Um, thanks. I'll, uh... I'll see you later."

The guard just watched her go, puzzled by the quick, almost frightened, stamp of her heels as she headed out the main door.

End Part Two

Part Three / Four "Charley!" Dana's voice was raw, fear and the long run from the house burning her lungs. She ran toward the small valley where she'd left him, her bright red braids bouncing along in her wake.

"Charley!" She caught sight of him, just where she had left him. But as she approached, she saw that he was now lying on his stomach, his twisted leg pulled out straight.

With a deep breath, her father crouched next to her, reaching out a gentle hand to turn him over. Dana gasped at the tall, dark-haired man laid out before her... Mulder--

"Agent Scully?"

The urgent call drew her from her reveries, and she turned, taking in, once again, the chaos of the emergency room that surrounded her. Doctor Oppenheim was calling to her from across the room.

"Agent Scully, I think you need to see this one."

She handed the equipment in her hand off to the nurse beside her, and made her way toward Oppenheim, who stood beside another gurney, watching a patient convulsing painfully before him.

"We can't figure this one out," the young doctor was saying, muttering to his nurse for another shot of pain killer. "He's not as badly burnt as some of the others, but he doesn't seem to be responding to treatment."

"Well, maybe he--" Scully broke off sharply, staring at the dark-haired man on the gurney. His hazel eyes opened wide in fear, latching onto her face, and his seared throat croaked her name out painfully.

"Scully--"

The trip back to Mulder's hotel room was Hell. She was tired, sore... They'd lost all but two of the soldiers that had been brought in. And those two wouldn't see the end of the day, she sighed sadly, getting out of the car and heading for Mulder's door.

So many people lost...

"Scully?" Mulder was sitting quietly at the table, surrounded by papers, and lit by the glow of his laptop. "I have something I'd like you to take a look at."

"What?"

"I found a scar on Max Fenig's neck," he said quietly, pulling at the files before him. "I've only seen it once before--on a woman I believe was abducted by aliens."

Scully shrugged tiredly, moving forward to look at the file he held. "Let me take a look."

The woman's neck was small, supple. Her hair was a flame red... Dana Scully jerked away from the vision of her own photo with a gasp, to find herself sitting anxiously on her couch, late-afternoon sunlight streaming through her windows.

God, she wished the dreams would stop. With a sigh, she stood, heading for the bathroom, reaching up to tie her hair back. She stopped, frightened, as her hand ran over the back of her neck.

The metal detector... What the hell was inside her? What had set the machine off?

Part of her desperately didn't want to know. She had enough to deal with. She had to find Mulder's killers--his father's killers... She didn't need another complication...

But she needed to know.

Forsaking the bathroom for the moment, she dug her address book out of her briefcase, trying to stop her hands from shaking as she fumbled for the number.

The phone rang twice, before a tired voice answered her. "Hello?"

"Hi, Will?" She steeled herself, and plunged in. "Look, I was wondering if you could meet me at the lab--I know you probably just got off, but... I have something strange I'd like you to take a look at."

Scully looked at the x-ray, her mind casting back to a hundred others, just like it... Perfectly normal people--with strange metal objects in their bodies... X-rays she had seen in Mulder's files.

"What do you think it could be?" she asked, turning to her friend.

Will Jeldin shrugged. "I don't know. It's embedded in your soft tissue, here," he said, pointing to the glaringly obvious white dot on her x-ray. "Looks like maybe a piece of buckshot."

Scully frowned to herself. "I don't know how it could have gotten there."

And she definitely didn't think it was buckshot.

Will took her aside, flipping her hair over her shoulders, and examining her neck. "Oh, I can feel it, just under the skin." He peered more closely. "And now that I'm looking, I can see a tiny little scar. If you want, I can do a local, and pull it out of there?"

Scully had been staring at the x-ray before her, barely listening to what he said. "Yeah," she replied dully.

She stood still, startled by the chair that Will suddenly butted into her legs. She sat, looking up at him. "Thanks for coming down here to do this for me so late."

"No problem," he replied, as she held her hair away from her neck, feeling the slight sting as he injected the anesthetic. "You were probably injured in the line of duty, and you didn't even know it."

Scully sighed strangely. She had a horrible feeling about this. It wasn't buckshot, it wasn't an injury... It had to do with the time she'd been gone.

She didn't know how she knew, but she did. And she was terrified to find out what they'd done.

Walter Skinner woke in his bed with a start, his eyes tracking around his bedroom, until they settled on the familiar dresser opposite him. It was the only other piece of furniture in the room. He looked around with a sigh, taking in the half-empty boxes, the general mess that one expected from a bachelor's apartment.

Except that he wasn't a bachelor, he thought sadly, pulling himself out of the narrow bed, and heading downstairs to the kitchen.

The dream had been bad. Not like the terrors he'd begun having again of late, but a full-blown nightmare. And it featured his two most troublesome agents.

It was strange, he thought, starting the coffeemaker with dull hands. He rarely dreamed about work. It was enough of a nightmare in the daylight--there didn't seem to be the need to relive it in the dark.

But this dream had been so real. He almost felt the need to call Scully, to make sure that the bloodied body he'd come upon, the dead woman who had woken him with such a shock, was alive and well...

Or at least alive, he thought, a tragic smile gracing his face. Scully wasn't going to be well for a long time--not until she got over Mulder's death.

That was the other strange thing. Mulder. He'd been in the dream, too, alive, holding a gun on him, as he himself stood over Scully...

With a hopeless sigh, Skinner took up a cup of coffee, moving to his living room. He had to do something about Scully, he thought quietly. He had been sure that, by taking the tape--getting to it before she could--he'd been protecting her. But that bastard in his office today had all but told him that, if Scully didn't have the tape, there was no reason to keep her alive.

He reached over to his suit jacket, fumbling for the pocket, before coming up with the DAT. He rolled it over and over in his hands, thinking.

It was time to talk to Scully about it. Let her know that it was safe--use it as some kind of leverage to make sure that she didn't lose what little she had left...

He lay back, musing silently. Actually, Scully had a lot left to her. Her family, her friends... But with Mulder gone, did she even want to have the FBI?

Well, regardless, he decided, sleep overtaking him again, despite himself, she needed to be safe... Even if she never wanted to see the J. Edgar Hoover Building again...

She needed to live to see something....

Dana Scully awoke from a sleep that had been blessedly dreamless. Day Six, she thought coldly, pulling herself out of bed and heading for the bathroom. Day six, and still no answers.

And quite a few more questions, she told herself bitterly, as her hand ran over the small band aid on the back of her neck.

She had almost finished drying her hair when the doorbell rang. Trying to shake off the feeling of unease she now had each time she reached for the door, she peered into the peephole carefully.

"Missy?" she asked quietly, opening the door to reveal her sister. "I thought we were going to meet at the restaurant."

Missy stood there, an unreadable look on her face. "You didn't sound like you really wanted to go out to eat when you called last night," she replied knowingly. "What's wrong?"

Dana sighed, leading her sister into the kitchen, and busying herself with making coffee before answering her question.

"I found out something disturbing yesterday."

"What?" Missy watched her little sister carefully. Dana was terrified. After all that had happened with Fox, what was she going to have to go through now?

Dana gazed past her for a moment, as if trying to decide whether to tell her everything or not. Finally, she walked over to her handbag, and pulled out a small, glass vial, handing it off to Missy.

"What is it?" her sister asked, examining the tiny dot that floated in the otherwise empty vial.

"I don't know," Dana replied, pouring the coffee, and setting two steaming mugs on the table. "But it was implanted in my neck."

Missy just looked at her in shock.

"It seems to be some sort of computer chip," Dana said calmly. Too calm. Missy could hear the edge of fear in her sister's voice.

"What does it do?"

"I don't know," Scully said, exasperated suddenly. "I don't even know how long it's been in there, I have no recollection of it having been put there."

Missy stared at the vial, rolling it between two fingers. "It's frightening," she whispered, locking eyes with her little sister. "Dana, this is really serious. I mean, you've got to find out what this is."

Dana shrugged, Worrying a finger between her teeth, like she had when they were children. "I don't have access to the FBI labs."

Missy shook her head at the younger woman's obtuseness. "No, I'm talking about access to your own memories. I mean, obviously, you've buried this so deeply that you can't consciously recall it."

"Melissa," Dana warned softly.

"I know someone," Missy pushed on. "Someone who can help--"

"No!" Dana's fist slammed into the table, startling them both as she jumped to her feet, desperately trying to get some distance from her well-meaning sister.

Missy sat still for a moment, her anger and fear rising as she watched her baby sister fight for control of herself. "What are you so afraid of?" she finally asked coldly. "Afraid you might actually learn something about yourself? I mean, you are so shut off to the possibility that there could be any explanation except your rigid scientific view of the world. It's like you've lost touch with your own intuition!" Her voice melted to entreaty as she saw the fear building in Dana once again. She rose to comfort her. "You're carrying so much grief and fear that you can't see. You've--you've built walls around your true feelings--and the memory of what really happened." Dana seemed to be caving. "Just do this for me--as your sister. Please."

As your sister. Scully looked up at her older sister for a long, searching moment. All that Mulder had gone through in his too-short life, simply for the sake of his sister...

"All right," she whispered, dropping her eyes.

"I'll call Mark," Missy said shortly, turning toward the living room. "Is eleven okay?"

"Fine..." God, Scully whispered to herself. What am I going to find now?

Scully looked up at the sign with trepidation: Dr. Mark Pomerantz Psychotherapy Regression Hypnosis Energy Fields Would Mulder have had a sign like that, if he hadn't joined the FBI? Scully amused herself by thinking so. And that amusement was enough to get her through the door.

It was like walking into someone's living room. No waiting room, no receptionist, just a short, comfortable-looking professor type--right down to the patches on his elbows. Invitation only, Scully thought ruefully. Very expensive.

"Miss Scully?"

"Dana, please," she offered, shaking his hand. He offered her a seat, and sat opposite her, his eyes already dissecting her with a laser's precision.

It was going to be a long session...

Walter Skinner walked slowly up the stairs to her apartment, absurdly watchful for anyone who might be keeping track of him. Two knocks received no answer, and with a sigh, he made his way back down to the building's entrance. He had hoped she would be home, had known that there was no other way he could get this information to her.

She had to know that he had the tape. If she had that knowledge, the two of them might be able to come up with a plan to secure her safety...

It was so far from secure now...

His preoccupation was so great that Skinner drove right past the woman he was looking for, without even noticing she was there.

But Scully noticed him. And the knowledge that he had come to her apartment filled her with a curious dread.

She made her way inside as quickly as possible, and spent fully half an hour trying to determine whether he'd actually entered the place, whether he'd taken anything, or left anything behind.

After a time, she sat on her couch, puzzled. Why would he have come here? Did he have something in the case? Had he finally decided to run that ballistics report that he had so stoutly refused yesterday?

Only one way to find out, she thought, rising to go to her phone. Kimberly put her through quickly, but there was stress in the young receptionist's voice that set Scully immediately on edge.

"Skinner." He sounded as hard-assed as ever.

"You came to see me today?" she asked, without preamble.

Walter Skinner sat forward in his chair, trying to hide his reaction from the man before him. "Excuse me?"

"You came to my apartment," Scully persisted. "I assumed you wanted to see me about something."

Skinner could hear the suspicion building in her voice. Damnit! He couldn't talk to her now--couldn't even tell her that he'd talk to her later--not with that man smoking blithely before him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, trying to sound cold, as if he were rebuking some wayward underling.

"I saw you come out of my building."

Damnit. She was wary now--scared. He had to find a way to speak with her. Something that wouldn't make her even more paranoid than she already was. But this was not the time. "You've obviously made a mistake," he stated curtly. "I'm sorry."

Hanging up the phone, he took a deep breath, watching the man before him with something like hatred in his eyes. "I need some fresh air," he said, rising suddenly. "You'll excuse me?"

He didn't give a damn whether the old man excused him or not. This game was getting too damn complicated. He had to get to Scully quickly. If she honestly thought there was no one left to trust, there was no telling what she might do.

"I have been on the bridge that spans two worlds. The link between all souls by which we cross into our true nature. You were here today, looking for a truth that was taken from you. A truth which was never to be spoken, but which now binds us together in dangerous purpose. I have returned from the dead to continue with you, but I fear that this danger is now close at hand, and I may be too late--"

Scully sat bolt upright, her dream hands still straining to reach out and touch him as he drew closer.

Mulder.

"I have returned from the dead to continue with you..."

She sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her sweaty hair. Returned from the dead. It was ridiculous. Fox Mulder was dead. She had seen the place where he died, watched the flames that had consumed him die out. He was gone...

After a moment, she found herself laughing--a high-pitched laugh that she recognized as hysteria. Dana, she told herself, you are going crazy. That was the only answer her rational mind could think of. The stress, the grief, the fear, the paranoia. They were all driving her crazy--Hell, maybe she even dreamed that Skinner had come to her apartment this afternoon. An hallucination brought on by impending psychosis. She had to be crazy, because, God help her...

She believed that Mulder was alive.

> Dana crept into her cousin’s room, tiptoeing, afraid to wake him up.
> 
> She need not have bothered. Charley was awake, his broken leg propped comfortably on pillows at the foot of the bed, the side of his face swathed in bandages.
> 
> "Hey, Dana."
> 
> "Hey," she replied quietly. He motioned for her to come closer, and she sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes on the floor.
> 
> "The doctor says I'm going to have a scar!" Dana looked up at him, stricken, until she saw the smile on his face.
> 
> "A big one?" she asked in a tiny voice.
> 
> "Big enough!" he replied brightly. "That's gonna be cool when I get back to school in the Fall!"
> 
> "You'll have to think up a good story, though," Dana said after a time. "Something to make the girls wanna kiss you."
> 
> Charley scrunched his face up, telling her exactly what he thought of that possibility. Dana smiled in return. He'd find out about girls eventually--she sure had about boys.
> 
> "Are you mad at me?" Dana looked him full in the face, not wanting to miss that telltale twitch in his eyes when he lied to her.
> 
> "Course not," he said, the twitch failing to make an appearance. "Why would I be mad at you?"
> 
> "Cause I was supposed to look after you."
> 
> "I can look after myself," he replied staunchly, an eight-year-old's bravado in his voice.

Even at the tender age of twelve, Dana Scully knew that that wasn't the truth. People just needed other people to take care of them. That was why there were moms and dads--to take care of people. Moms and dads... Dana Scully watched the ceremony playing out before her, searching Bill Mulder's widow's face for a sign of the guilt she herself felt.

She was surprised to see it there in spades.

As the ceremony concluded and Bill Mulder's friends shook his ex-wife's hand in consolation, Scully knew she had to say something. She had to let the woman know that there was at least a part of her family left...

If only he'd come back.

"Mrs. Mulder?" Scully asked quietly, walking up to the stylish woman as the last crowd of mourners left her.

"Yes?"

"I'm Dana Scully. I work with your son." Scully made sure to keep Mulder in the present tense. "Um... I know what you may have heard from the FBI, but I have a very strong feeling that your son is going to be found."

"Oh, my goodness gracious," the old woman replied, the hope in her face suddenly causing Scully to doubt herself. She shouldn't have said anything--not until she was sure. But she so wanted to replace that guilty look in this distinguished woman's eyes. With a deep breath, she plunged on.

"I think he's still alive." There, she'd said it. For the first time since her partner had disappeared, Scully had finally voiced her hope--now, nearly, her certainty.

"How do you know?" There was something in Mrs. Mulder's voice that made Scully wonder how much the old woman knew. She had had a powerful husband... She may have been privy to powerful secrets.

"I just have a very strong feeling," Scully replied, not sure whether she was willing to say more. "There're some anomalies in the evidence of his death," she said after a moment.

"But the Director called me himself," Mrs. Mulder protested. "He said..."

Scully just watched the older woman as she trailed off. The Director? Quite a high-placed mother to have the Director call her about her son's death.

"We've uncovered some new information," she hedged. "We're not sure about it, but..."

"Have you found out anything about who really killed Bill?" Mrs. Mulder asked, her voice and her eyes telling Scully that she had never believed the rumors about her son.

"Not yet, Mrs. Mulder." Scully held out her hand, trying to get away from this woman before she started asking more questions than a new widow should have to answer. "I promise I'll let you know as soon as I do."

"Thank you," Mrs. Mulder said, a light of hope in her eyes that Scully prayed would soon be rewarded. "Thank you very much." Scully walked toward her car, still trying to puzzle out the things she'd thought she'd heard in Mrs. Mulder's voice. She was surprised to see a very distinguished-looking old man standing beside her small sedan.

"Hello," he said amiably. "I see you're a friend of the family. So am I." Scully found herself immediately bothered by him. "Do you think we might find a moment to speak?"

"About?" she asked warily.

"A very serious matter." He gestured to her. "Please. Could we find someplace away from the others?" Scully watched him carefully as they walked. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation," he said, his cultured accent sounding a little too smooth. "You think the son is still alive?"

"Who are you?" Scully asked, turning on him suddenly.

"I'm a member of a kind of consortium," he replied blithely. "We represent certain global interests."

"What kind of interests?"

"Ones that would be very threatened by the digital tape that you are no longer in possession of."

Scully gritted her teeth. "Threatened enough to kill?"

"Oh my, yes."

"What do you know about Mulder?" Scully watched him carefully. If he was working with Cancerman, he'd have to know if the old bastard had him.

"That he is dead. Quid bono."

Scully shook her head. "You're lying."

"I'm not here to tell you lies."

"What are you here for?" she asked coldly.

"To tell you your life is in danger, too."

Scully had had enough. Enough of the games, enough of the lies. She just wanted Mulder back and in one piece. And this man obviously wasn't going to help her. "Leave me alone."

As she turned to leave, the man's cultured voice stopped her. "They'll kill you one of two ways. They'll send someone--possibly two men--to kill you in your home, or in the garage, with an unregistered weapon which will be left at the scene. Using false documents supplied by associates of mine, they will be out of the country in less than two hours."

Scully just stared at him. What was he gaining by telling her this? "You said there were two ways."

"Yes," the old man said thoughtfully. "He--or she--will be someone close to you... Someone you trust." Scully's eyes hardened as he continued. "They'll arrange a meeting, or come to your house unexpectedly." He gazed at her appraisingly. "Do you have someplace else you might stay?"

She studied him for a long moment, frightened to realize that she believed him. "Why?" she asked finally. "Why kill me?"

"You want something they don't," he answered simply. "Justice. And, because they are now quite certain that you don't have the computer copy of the files they're looking for."

That made sense. If she had nothing to hold over their heads--if they truly thought Mulder was dead--she'd be of no use to them. Better to get her out of the way and avoid complications. Which only left one question...

"Why are you protecting me?"

The old man considered that a moment. "I feel my colleagues are acting... impulsively. And your death would draw unnecessary attention to our group."

"You're not protecting me," she grated harshly. "You're protecting yourself."

"Why should that surprise you?" he asked, an elegant eyebrow raised in question. "Motives are rarely unselfish."

"What kind of business are you in?" Scully was well past tiring of this game.

"We predict the future," the cultured man said blithely, a strange glint in his eye. "And the best way to predict the future, is to invent it." He turned to go, leaving an open-mouthed Scully behind him. "Good day, young lady."

Scully worried over the impromptu meeting through the entire drive back to Alexandria. It wasn't surprising to her that they were out to get her--it was just startling of them to let her know beforehand.

"He--or she--will be someone close to you... Someone you trust."

Well, that let out everyone but Mulder, and she didn't see him doing this "consortium's" dirty work anytime soon. So... The apartment or the garage...

She'd better make sure her personal handgun was in proper working order, she thought grimly, as she made her way up to her apartment.

She was startled by the ringing of her phone as she closed the door behind her. "Hello," she announced quietly.

"Dana, it's your sister." Missy sounded on-edge. That made two of them.

"Hi."

"Hi," Missy returned. "Where have you been?"

"I had to go to Boston," Scully replied, a little dully. "For a funeral."

"Oh... Well, I was worried about you."

Scully was immediately keyed up. Had something happened while she'd been gone? "Why?" she asked tensely.

"I haven't heard from you since you saw Dr. Pomerantz."

Scully took a deep breath. Maybe there was a person, besides Mulder, whom she trusted. "Missy, something strange happened to me today, and I'm a bit freaked out by it."

Missy went into "Big Sister Mode", right on cue. "Okay, look. I want to come over. I want to talk to you. Are you going to be there for a while?"

"Yeah," Scully replied, relieved to have someone to discuss this mess with. "Yeah, I will."

"Okay," Missy said, sounding as if she was already reaching for her keys. "Okay, I'll see you then."

Scully hung up, prepared to make a pot of coffee, so the two of them could hash this thing out. Maybe Missy would understand about her conviction that Mulder was alive. Maybe she'd understand the dreams...

The phone rang again before she'd had a chance to move.

"Hi." What'd you forget this time, Missy...

The strange click on the line, as the caller hung up, set Scully sweating. Maybe that old man had been telling more truth than Scully wanted to admit. If they were trying to kill her, this would be the perfect time. Late at night, no one around. No one...

Shit, Missy! She dialed tensely, listening to her sister's phone ring. "Come on, come on, come on," she whispered angrily, rolling her eyes when the machine caught the call.

"Hi. This is Melissa. I'm very sorry to have missed your call. Please leave a message, and I'll call you right back, okay? ... Have a really nice day."

"Missy, it's me," Scully all but barked into the phone. "Please pick up. Missy? Missy, pick up the--" She took a deep breath, made a snap decision. "I'm coming over to your place instead. I'll, uh... I'll look for you on the way. Bye."

She hung up, letting the adrenaline get to her mind, letting it clear her processes. First things first: a gun. She rummaged through her top drawer, coming up with her old service revolver and a hand full of extra bullets. She always kept it loaded, and while her sister always thought that terribly paranoid, it might be the only thing that kept her alive tonight.

She tried not to run for her car--and that attempt was providential, because the cream-colored sedan that cut her off halfway across the street could easily have cut her in two.

Scully was amazed to see Assistant Director Skinner push open the passenger-side door. Amazed, and immediately on guard.

"Scully, get in the car, I need to talk to you." They'll show up at your house unexpectedly. "It's very important."

"I was just going over to my sister's," Scully stalled.

"I'll drop you by there," Skinner assured her tensely. "Right now, I need you to come with me."

"Where are we going?"

"To a place we can talk in private."

Scully made a pretense of checking her purse, and made sure that her gun was easily accessible. Then, wary, she got into the car.

So it was going to be someone she "trusted", after all. Except that they'd made a mistake. After all that Skinner hadn't done for her since Mulder disappeared, Scully didn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

And that was definitely going to save her tonight.

It didn't take Scully long to figure out where he was taking her. Mulder's place. It made sense, somehow. It was close by, fairly secluded--and Mulder was already under suspicion for killing his father. Why not his partner, as well?

"You have the keys, right?" Skinner asked. He was tense--obviously not feeling quite right about killing one of his own agents. Well, Scully thought coldly, as she nodded and they exited the vehicle, I wonder how much better he'll feel with a bullet through his brain. Because I am not letting him get the jump on me.

Skinner watched Scully out of the corner of his eye as they got into the elevator. She was scared... But determined. Hopefully that determination would be enough to get her to listen to what he had to say. He knew she didn't trust him--not after all the crap that had gone on since Mulder died.

But he was trying to protect her. And from the off-handed remarks that that cigarette-smoking bastard had been tossing off the past couple of days, he didn't have much time.

Scully took out her keys as they reached Mulder's door, flipping through them to find the one she was looking for. Sliding it home, she pushed the door wide open, her eyes still on the floor. "After you," she said, with a gesture toward the room beyond them.

Skinner froze at the sound of a gun cocking.

"Eyes forward," Scully barked coldly. "Put your hands where I can see them... Don't turn around, or I'll blow your head off."

What was she doing? He hadn't thought her distrust of him had gone this far! Her voice was ice as she flicked on the entryway light. "Don't think I won't do it, you son of a bitch."

"No, I believe you," he said quietly, arms raised in surrender. "Just stay cool, I'm with you."

"Take two steps forward." Skinner heard a steely, almost desperate, determination. The same determination that he had seen in the elevator. But that steel was more likely to get him killed than he'd thought.

"Now move slowly toward the couch." He could hear her sliding her purse off of her shoulder, as she flicked on the living room light. "Turn around, and sit down on your hands."

This was ridiculous! He could easily just pull his gun out of his jacket, taking the chance that she'd make good on her promise to shoot him. But he had to keep her talking. He had get her to listen to him.

"Are you going to let me tell you why I'm here?" he asked reasonably.

"I know why you're here," she grated. "I want to know who sent you--whose errand boy you are."

Skinner's jaw tightened in anger. "Nobody 'sent' me," he growled.

At the hostility in his voice, Scully tightened her grip on her weapon. "You've got the rest of your life to give me answers," she said, perching on the edge of her seat.

She was wound tighter than a drum. Skinner was going to have to handle this very carefully. "Scully, I--"

"How high does it go, Skinner?" Scully interrupted angrily. "Who's pulling the strings?"

"You can kill me, Scully," he replied quietly, moving quickly from entreaty to threat. "But you'll only be doing their work for them. Forget about your job--your family. You'll spend the rest of your life behind bars. There isn't a federal judge that they couldn't persuade."

He hoped he was getting through to her. If he could just get her to put down her weapon, he could tell her why he really came.

"What's the alternative?" Scully asked, her fear going up another notch. "Let you kill me now?"

"I didn't come here to kill you," he declared, his own anger rising. Why the hell wouldn't she listen to him? "I can here to give you something." He suddenly wasn't sure he wanted to give it to her. "I've got the digital tape."

Scully stared at him a beat, but all she saw was a killer. "You're lying."

"I've got it in my pocket," he persisted. "I took it out of Mulder's desk."

She was about to ask him to show it to her, when she heard sounds out in the hallway. Shadows in the crack beneath the door drew her attention away from her boss.

It was all the distraction he needed...

* * *

_The End_


End file.
